


Quirky

by coudric



Series: Heroes [2]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Family, Friendship, Vatreni
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-07-28 06:11:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16235798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coudric/pseuds/coudric
Summary: [Super Hero AU] Gatecrashing your rivals' missions? Engaging in social media wars of popularity? Failing to obtain your hero license because you'd rather fight than rescue civilians? Conquering the hero billboard charts without meaning to? And- Welcome to a world full of pro-heroes. Featuring: Croatia NT. And some.[You don't have to read the first part. This is an independent story]





	Quirky

**Author's Note:**

> As I have mentioned in my other work for this series - here is the full BnHA AU. It's not connected to the other story aside from the quirks, e.g. super powers (with the difference that majority of humanity has them). Again, I don't think you need to know the original series to understand this :) 
> 
> I'll be updating this one sporadically; just pieces of the lives of our Croatian NT (and some others) as pro-heroes, aspiring heroes aka sidekicks and students, and so on, with some plot and consistency thrown in. I've also made some hero-moodboards for the boys! :D Not all of them yet but yeah. Will be posting those on my tumblr at some point. 
> 
> Also, this was what basically triggered me to start the series:
> 
> "Players like Modrić are the antithesis of modern football. Nowadays, individual brilliance and the stars themselves are glorified. We now talk of heroes. Modrić is not a show-off, above all he’s a team player, the heart of the team, the motor. He connects the individual parts of the collective and makes them better."  
> — Aleksandar Holiga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As if gatecrashing their high-profile mission wasn't bad enough, los Blancos had quite the surprise for him. Although, Ivan supposed he didn't mind it.

 

 _Ivan_.

“Gatecrashing is _rude_. Someone tell them!”

Ivan stared at the sharp talons hovering around his jaw, then at the indignant glare the villain had levelled at him – he assumed it was a glare, hard to tell from someone without eyebrows – and shrugged. “Well, you’re not wrong there.” The grip around his wrists had loosened, he noted with glee. Taking advantage of this newfound space to move, he positioned the tip of his right forefinger under his thumb. “But you know what’s even ruder?”

If the guy had a real mouth instead of this weirdly oversized bird beak, Ivan bet he would’ve pursed his lips in distaste. “What?”

He pointed his thumb and forefinger at the villain’s torso and _flipped_. Sudden, explosive pressure rippled through the air and had the villain hurtle half-way across this street full of destroyed buildings, until he crashed into a broken lantern post with a sickening _crack_. “Getting distracted from your opponent.”

Ivan laid there unmoving amidst rubble and a thick cloud of dust, and let out a long, exhausted sigh. He should have had that coffee earlier. Sure, Leo's new sidekick, Neymar, made terrible coffee – but any caffeine was better than none. His body would have appreciated the caffeine, if nothing else.

In his periphery, he could make out three flashes of red, blue and black atop a bridge, their incessant movements against each other indicating that they were fighting. Though, that was fine. Leo and Luis could handle themselves much better without anyone else interfering, and he was fairly sure that the other guys who had been called up for this mission had already evacuated the whole premise. Which didn’t mean it would stop sneaky reporters or fanboys and girls from slipping through to record videos for their twitter or tumblr, but still.

Not far from his left, Jordi was emerging from a collapsed building while supporting a limping Andres. Aside from them, there was no one in his immediate vicinity although, he could hear the sounds of clashes and muffled voices in the distance. He would have to just trust that their squad would finish the job without further liabilities. They weren’t considered one of the top agencies internationally for no reason, after all. His own attention shifted toward something else.

“He was right, though,” Ivan said, addressing the man approaching him tentatively. Although, it was highly uncomfortable, he craned his neck backward to look up into a familiar, apologetic face. “It’s rude to gatecrash someone else’s mission.” And illegal if the situation wasn't dire.

“We’re not even doing anything!”

Unimpressed, Ivan regarded Gareth Bale with a challenging stare. “I saw Marcelo crash into the Sludge Monster.” Who was definitely theirs to take care of.

Bale winced. “A slight miscalculation?”

“Ramos went off after Gerard.” _And they might kill each other_.

Bale spread out his arms in exasperation. “When does he ever play by the rules? And look!” He pointed at himself and tugged at his loose jeans and abhorrent – it displayed their crest! – sweater. “Civilian clothes!”

Ivan rolled his eyes at that poor excuse. How was this guy a pro? It was so easy to rattle him. “What exactly are you doing here, then?” In rival territory, far away from their own.

“Looking for you! See, there-” Bale wanted to reach for something at his side, apparently, but when his hand grasped air he paled so rapidly that for a second, even Ivan worried that the guy might topple over. He looked to his left and right, frantically circling around himself, panic etched into his features. It had Ivan’s pulse hitch with unease. “Where-? Oh, no! No, no, not-”

“ _Ouch!_ ”

Ivan’s focus snapped to the direction Bale sped off into within a split second. He blinked. And blinked again, not sure whether his vision was playing tricks on him. Had he been hit on the head earlier? But no matter how many times he blinked, the sight remained the same: there was a kid, a blindfolded, blond kid whom Bale was helping back to his feet after he had run into the edge of a broken _Stop_ sign. What the hell?

Ignoring the protesting screams of his sore muscles, Ivan heaved himself up. Warily, he walked closer to those two while his senses sprung to life, high on alert. “Why would you bring a kid to a battle field? _Blindfolded_?”

Bale checked the boy for injuries. His hands were comically huge on that tiny bod; they could crush it so easily, Ivan noted with unease. “Didn’t know about the fight when we decided to come. None of us had your number!”

“Why would you-” Ivan cut himself off when he a got a better look at the kid. It was the red shirt which had his heart stumble a beat – a shirt that seemed to swallow up the boy, reaching all the way down to his ankles, and one that Ivan would recognize anywhere. He had the exact same one back at home although, with a different writing and someone else’s name on it. And yes, the longer he looked, the more he could see a resemblance there. _Oh my God_. “Please, don’t tell me this is Luka.”

Evidently caught-off guard, Bale stared at him with his mouth agape. The boy – _Luka_ – perked up at the mention of his name. “How did you know?”

 _I can’t believe this_. “What happened?” Ivan asked, not deeming it necessary to answer the question.

Bale turned his focus back toward patting off the dust from Luka’s shoulders. Every time he did so, Luka’s body would lurch forward slightly, and Ivan winced in sympathy. Didn’t that brute know his own strength? “Well… Sergio pissed off someone. It’s a long story. Luka tried to intervene and, yeah. Here we are.”

“Ramos. Why am I not surprised?” Ramos wouldn’t be Ramos if he didn’t get on someone’s bad side at least once a month. And Luka wouldn’t be Luka if he didn’t try to protect his friends. “But why bring him here?”

“Because we can’t understand him!” Bale almost yelled as if this was something that had been weighing on him for a while now. The outburst had Luka flinch out of his grasp and Bale grimace guiltily. “And I think he’s scared of us?” No, more likely intimidated. “He found this shirt and insisted- well, I think that’s what he wanted, I am not sure- to see _Raketa_.”

A petty part of Ivan, one which he rarely indulged, felt smug about having been chosen over Luka’s teammates. Although, logically seen, it wasn’t surprising: anyone would latch on to something familiar when finding themselves surrounded by strangers. Ivan crouched down in front of Luka but didn’t dare to touch least of all he startled the boy. There was an angry, red bruising on above his right eyebrow. “And the blindfold?”

Bale scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. “He can’t control his quirk.”

There seemed to be an interesting story there, but Luka was more important, right now. Ivan reached out for the fold and stopped inches from Luka’s temple. “Hello, Luka. You’ve wanted to meet me?”

The boy brought up his hands to his chest and twisted the fingers into the cloth. “…are you Raketa? You talk normal.”

Ivan chuckled. “Yes, I am. Can I take off your blindfold?”

Luka stepped out of reach, shaking his head furiously. “My eyes are scary!”

 _Ah_. Reminded of painful years long gone, Ivan smiled sadly. His heart squeezed uncomfortably tightly. “But I’ve already seen them. I don’t think they’re scary.”

It didn’t help. Luka was still shaking his head and the movements of his fingers became almost frantic. _Did he have panic attacks at this age_? Ivan wondered, dread pooling into the pit of his stomach. “They _are_.”

“Okay, it’s fine,” he rushed to assure the boy. “If you want to, we’ll leave it on.” _For now_. But it thankfully seemed to calm Luka down. Carefully, Ivan took hold of Luka’s right arm, giving the boy enough time to move out of it and when he didn’t, pulled him into his chest. Luka was extremely light, he realized when he stood up with him on his hip. “How old are you, Luka?”

“Six.” Luka’s small fingers flitted curiously over Ivan’s face, his frown deepening when he rubbed over the stubble. Ivan couldn’t help but grin. _Cute_. “Are you a hero? I like heroes.”

 _I know_. “I am. As are your friends – the guys who brought you here?”

“Friends?” Luka furrowed his brows further and pursed his lips into a thoughtful pout. “They are weird.”

“He says you’re weird,” Ivan translated for Bale who had been watching their interaction like a hawk.

The guy sighed. “Well, at least he’s comfortable with you. Keep him?”

Ivan couldn’t hide his surprise. “You’re leaving him with me?”

Bale clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Do we have any other choice? We don’t understand him, he’s not comfortable with us and- I mean, it’s only for a while? He won’t stay like this forever! I _think_. And we’ll be over later, obviously. There’s this mission…”

Well, given how protective _los Blancos_ were over Luka, Ivan could imagine how much it had to pain them to leave him with a rival. He could sympathize. Turning back toward Luka, he asked, “Do you want to stay with me?”

Luka’s fingers which had been fiddling with Ivan’s dual-colored mask halted. He chewed on his lower lip for a long moment. “Can I?” He sounded so hesitant and unsure that it made Ivan’s chest hurt.

“Of course! If you want to.” Luka ducked his head shyly but not fast enough to hide his smile from Ivan. He grinned. “Why do you want to stay with me, though? These weird guys are your friends, they’ll take care of you, too.”

By now, Luka was pressing his face into Ivan’s shoulder and Ivan had to strain his ears to decipher his mumbling. “’cause you wrote, _Raketa loves you_.”

 _Oh_. Ivan was glad that his dual-colored mask covered his cheekbones because he could feel a blush creeping into them.

A window crashed down a few feet behind Bale, the sound of shattering glass snapping all of them out of their reverie. Ivan instantly fell into a semi-defensive stance but instead of a villain, Ramos landed where the window had broken, Gerard, Luis and Leo shortly behind him. Ramos’ gaze flitted from Bale to Ivan to Luka and the next instance, he was right in front of them, pressing a quick kiss into Luka’s hair which startled the boy with surprise. Then he grabbed Ivan's shoulders and pulled him close, eyes serious. “If you ever decide to take off the blindfold – send me the videos.”

Ivan opened his mouth, not really knowing what he wanted to retort, but halted, senses high on alert. There was a presence in his back and it was closing in on them way too quickly. Instinctively, he dodged out of the way and tightened his grip around Luka in the same movement, and just at the right moment. Instead of him, Marcelo, in all of his green sludgy glory, ran straight into Ramos who, to Ivan’s amazement, managed not to topple over. Disgusted, he pushed his over-energetic friend away, but the damage had already been done: his white hoodie was stained by green sludge. Marcelo, completely unperturbed, whirled toward Ivan but when he tried to move into their direction, Ivan hosted Luka to his other hip and hold his hand up in warning. Like _hell_ would he allow the guy to touch Luka in this state.

Marcelo pouted. “Killjoy. I’ll make sure you’ll get more _special_ coffee in the next days.”

Ignoring him because, really, Neymar’s coffee-making skills couldn’t get any more special no matter how much Marcelo bribed the kid, Ivan addressed Bale. “Didn’t you say something about a mission?”

The man looked like Ivan had just denied his Welsh heritage. “ _Well_.”

“We’re late as it is,” Ramos agreed reluctantly. He had given up trying to brush off the sludge from his hoodie.

From behind him, Gerard huffed. “And since when do  _you_ care about protocol?”

Annoyance flared up on Ramos' face and there was a certain agitation to his movements when he turned sharply toward Gerard. "Maybe you should be more grateful, you prick. If it weren't for me not 'caring about protocol'," He made exaggerated quotations marks with his fingers, "you'd be missing a limb or two!"

"It was your fault to begin with!" Gerard hissed, voice vibrating with repressed anger. Luis wisely stepped away from him and bumped into Leo who didn't even flinch.

 _They are going to fight_. The thought hadn’t even fully formed in his mind when Ivan felt Luka squirming in his hold. Winding his arms around Ivan’s neck, the boy pressed his forehead against his throat and took in a shaky breath. He could feel the rising tension, Ivan realized, alarmed. Luka had always been uneasy about people fighting.

He wasn’t the only one to notice Luka’s growing discomfort and the fact that more Barca heroes were slowly drawn toward them due to the arising commotion. Had they apprehended all the villains on site, already? Marcelo grabbed hold of an unwilling Ramos and a forlorn Bale who kept looking at Luka unhappily, and shouted, “Love you, Lukita! We’ll be back soon, take care of him or you’re gonna regret it, _Raketa_.” And they were gone within the blink of an eye. Just like that.

Ivan's eyelids drooped with exhaustion and pressed his cheek atop Luka’s head. His hair was softer than it looked. “The weirdoes say they love you,” he translated.

Luka hummed quietly. It had a pleased albeit embarrassed note to it.

Luis, who had watched the exchange curiously, stared at the spot los Blancos had been standing at, squinted thoughtfully and pointed at Ivan. “You’ve got a kid there.” Gerard next to him snorted.

Ivan could feel Luka tense again upon hearing the new voice directed at them and tried to soothe him by running his fingers over the back of his head. Leo watched them intently before he let his gaze sweep over the destruction around them and sighed, clearly tired. “I don’t want to know.”

 


End file.
